Shadow Knight
by Shadow's Interceptor
Summary: Denied death, a former assassin is forced to serve a cause not his own. What happens when the man refuses to be the shadow? And when magic that no one expected is thrown into the mix- the very laws of the world will e bent and broken. Post-movie
1. Prologue 1

_This is the prologue to the Final Fantasy part of this story. If you read this in the Final Fantasy section of then you may skip this as it is exactly the same as what is posted there. Otherwise it is suggested you read this._

_Well, I hereby give you all my first attempt at a crossover and my first attempt at an M rated epic journey story. Hope I don't screw it up. Reviewers are welcome to rip me a new one for any and all faults in this tale. If I can, I'll get around to fixing them as soon as possible._

_ In the King Arthur timeline this is five years post movie, no changes in movie plot. It is twelve years post game for Final Fantasy VI, with no changes in game plot except Shadow did not die as the game leads us to believe. If you would like an explanation of how this may have happened, my story __Interceptor's Duty__ covers it. _

_ Any notes, clarifications, or other such needed information will be posted in the index chapter. _

_ The following story is rated M for language, violence, and adult situations. Don't say I didn't warn you._

_I own neither Final Fantasy VI nor King Arthur or their respective characters, settings, and plots. I also make no money from this fanfiction and write it solely for my own enjoyment, not for profit. I will not be repeating this disclaimer in later chapters of the work. I said it here, that should be enough._

&*&*&

**Kefka had fallen. But that did not mean the world's troubles were over. Creatures still aged, sickened, and died. People still killed one another. The world went on as it always had and always would. **

** As all men do, the heroes of that world grew older. Some grew wiser, some more foolish. Some did not change at all. When it was their time, they died. It was to be expected. They were only human after all.**

** What was not expected was for some to die before their time. These things are never anticipated. A young artist, no more than a child when the world was broken, but a true hero in her own right, fell ill. Without the power of the espers there was no medicine, nor inborn magic strong enough to save her. **

** It was a great blow to all who knew her, but for one it was almost his destruction. Only a promise he had made kept him from following her into the afterlife. And only the memory of past mistakes kept him from going down the path he had traversed not so long ago. She had saved him from that fate once; he would not dishonor her memory by destroying himself that way. **

** So he did what he could. Changed his name. Traveled. Became a hunter of monsters. People called him to take down rouge creatures too powerful for the average person to handle. The Fight, The Hunt, and The Kill. Those were all he had left. **

** It was all that kept him sane. **

** All that kept him going.**

** All he had left to live for. **

** As he had years before, the man once more found himself praying for death to find him.**

** He had no idea that when he reached his ordained time to die that his shadowed soul, the thing he believed made him deserve death more than any other, would be the very thing used to call him back.**

_**A Mystic's Vision. A New World. New Companions. A Dangerous Tide.**_

_**As it had forever been, the reaper was always one step behind him.**_

_**Shadow Knight**_


	2. Prologue 2

_This is the prologue of the King Arthur part of the story. If you read this in the King Arthur section of feel free to skip this as it is exactly the same as what is posted there. Otherwise I would suggest reading this._

_Well, I hereby give you all my first attempt at a crossover and my first attempt at an M rated epic journey story. Hope I don't screw it up. Reviewers are welcome to rip me a new one for any and all faults in this tale. If I can, I'll get around to fixing them as soon as possible._

_ In the King Arthur timeline this is five years post movie, no changes in movie plot. It is twelve years post game for Final Fantasy VI, with no changes in game plot except Shadow did not die as the game leads us to believe. If you would like an explanation of how this may have happened, my story __Interceptor's Duty__ covers it. _

_ Any notes, clarifications, or other such needed information will be posted in the index chapter. _

_ The following story is rated M for language, violence, and adult situations. Don't say I didn't warn you._

_I own neither Final Fantasy VI nor King Arthur or their respective characters, settings, and plots. I also make no money from this fanfiction and write it solely for my own enjoyment, not for profit. I will not be repeating this disclaimer in later chapters of the work. I said it here, that should be enough._

&*&*&

**Five years changes a lot of things. A man can become a king. Slaves can become free. The oppressed can become the oppressors. Five years of peace can turn hard men soft, rust blades, make walls crumble. Five years changes a lot of things.**

** In the struggles of past, friends had been lost, battles won, and freedom gained. But the past is the past, and though it is never forgotten, eventually it's meaning and memory is rubbed away by the winds of time. This was so for four men. Four knights. The last of a proud legacy. They knew the past and remembered it fondly. But none of them had any inkling as to the perils certain past events assured in the future.**

** One man did. He saw. He knew. To him the future came unbidden, a dream of a looming tide. A tide of fear and pain and death for all Britain. The only hope of halting the tide was a shadow. **

**This world's shadow was five years cold, buried in the cemetery of his brothers. **

**But as men do, he thought around this problem. He would not let his homeland perish while he still drew breath! Watching the path between life and the beyond, the one place where the souls of all worlds must pass, he waited. Perhaps one would come in time. A shadow he could draw back into existence before the soul was torn beyond his reach. He did not hold much hope. **

**Yet against all odds . . . a shadow came.**

**But not even he, he who could see what was to come, he who, with preparation, could draw the souls of the dead to him, could have foreseen the troubles his actions would cause. The very world would warp, as a power unknown twisted all that the rules of logic and magic decreed. **

**It is said that fallen knights return as great horses. And the rules of Fate decree that it is as great horses they must stay.**

**The problem was, the rules of Fate were not spared.**

_**A Mystic's Vision. Otherworldly Powers. A Shadowed Soul. A Dangerous Tide.**_

_**They will not be forgotten. But it is not only in the tales that they will live on.**_

_**Shadow Knight**_


	3. Death Denied

_What on this twisted tortured planet had convinced him that death would be peaceful? Years ago he had wanted death, prayed for it, did everything but put the blade in his heart. And for what? An escape he thought. To get away from what he had done in life. For peace. _

_ This was definitely not peace. But then again, it wasn't really death either. _

&*&*&

The last thing he knew from his life was the horrifying death roar of the monster whose gut he had split. Not a fast kill, but a certain one. The quickest, easiest strike he could think of at the moment. But of course, now the creature needed a distraction to vent its dying rage upon.

The former assassin standing within striking distance proved the perfect subject. Little armor, little resistance, the man was dead within seconds of having the entire front of his ribcage literally ripped away by the behemoth's paw. It certainly brought joy to the last moments of the monster's life. Had the beast the capacity to know or care about the history of the man it had just killed, its final moments would have been filled not with joy, but with an ecstatic glee that only comes from removing a threat to all of one's kind. For that was exactly what the beast had done.

Scead Stryker, formerly Clyde Arrowny, formerly Shadow, formerly Clyde Arrowny was dead.

And he was damn happy about it. Twenty blasted years and FINALLY he was dead. What came next, what the hell did he care? It couldn't be any worse than the hell on earth he had lived through. Lose your best friend, lose your wife, lose your daughter, find your daughter, lose your _other_ best friend, lose your daughter again, this time permanently. The only thing that kept him from turning the blade on himself was a promise.

It had been after he'd woken up to the cold stiff form of his constant canine companion. He hadn't cried. She had. She had cried enough for both of them. When they buried him, she had said through her sobs, "Don't you even think of making yourself follow him! Promise me you won't!"

Still numb with grief, he had. Two years later, when she had been taken by an illness he could not recall the name of, he regretted every word. But he had promised. And he always kept his promises to her.

That didn't matter now. He was dead, not by his own hand, and all he could do was wait. He stood (for he still retained his body) in darkness. Waiting. He was good at waiting. Always had been. Without a reference, it is difficult to gauge the passage of time. But after a while, he knew it had been too long. Something should have happened. He had almost died once. There had been darkness that time too. But in a short time there had been light in the darkness. Light and voices. Then he had been drawn back, away from the light to the world of the living.

Not this time. This time, there was nothing. Was there something wrong? Some divine screw up? It would happen to him, wouldn't it?

Something strange was happening in the darkness. A pulse, something not quite heard, more of felt was shaking this space.

_Sound waves_, the man pondered, _am I feeling sound waves when I should be hearing them?_ Curious at this supposition, he focused every fiber of his being on receiving and feeling these pulses, trying to make some sense to them.

Abruptly, the waves pouring over his body translated themselves into words.

_Shadowed One, you are here._

"Where else would I be," he snarled, not caring if the 'voice' heard him or not, "I'm dead."

_Shadowed One, I hold you here._

"Let me go, I've waited to be dead for a long time. And my name is Clyde."

_I have need of you._

"Fuck you," he roared, "Leave me be!"

_My world lost one such as you. It has need of another. My land, my people, I see that they will be lost in the coming tide. A tide that can only be stopped by a shadow. That is my vision. _

"I'm a hero no longer. I never wanted to save the fucking world in the first place!" In his rage, Clyde sent a pulse of his own out along with the words.

_**Find another.**_

_Those like yourself and the one my world lost are few. It is unlikely that another will enter the afterlife in time for me to call to them._

So the 'voice' could hear his angry pulses.

_**Let. Me. Die. **_

_You are dead. I ask you to lend your body and soul to my land. Till this task is done. Then you may go to your peace._

Clyde could not help but give a humorless laugh.

_**I am not all here. Parts of me died years ago**_**.**

_I have need of all of you._

_**You do not understand. I am not whole. Others hold me.**_

_Who?_

He thought for a moment.

_**My daughter . . . and my dog. When my heart was shattered, I gave pieces away to them. Even in death, they still hold them.**_

_I will call your whole self to me. I can delay no longer. I am sorry._

"So I get no say in this!" Clyde bellowed into the darkness, forgetting that the 'voice' could not hear his spoken words. The pulsing turned into a pull, a pull that the former assassin desperately tried to resist. It was futile in the end, as he knew it would be. He was dead for god's sakes and this 'voice' with its land and people was obviously alive. The dead have no power over the living, unless the living deem it so.

The 'voice' did not deem it so.

&*&*&

Damp. He never imagined being dead would include being damp. Or feeling wind tossing his hair. Or sticks poking his back. Or birds crying above him. Or a big, warm, furry, _something_ draped across his legs.

Or cramps. He sure as hell didn't think being dead would involve Charlie Horses.

Groaning angrily he flipped himself onto his side, throwing whatever had taken up residence across his legs off with a thud and a snarl. An all too familiar snarl.

Forgetting the pain, the damp, and everything else that _shouldn't_ be there in death Clyde forced his eyes open to regard the large black and brown animal struggling upright in on the ground beside him. The dog seemed just as disoriented as the man, getting to his paws and turning his head about slowly, inhaling large gouts of air through his sensitive nose as he tried to find some sort of familiar scent that would tell him his location.

Clyde would know the powerful dog anywhere. But it couldn't be. Interceptor had died four years ago, an elderly fellow who had lived out his life and gone peacefully in his sleep. He had been grey muzzled, arthritic, and starting to go blind and deaf. But the dog that stood before him now . . . this dog was in his prime, a shining ebony basecoat with striking chestnut points covered the muscular body that moved without trace of stiffness or pain. Even so, there was no doubt. The dog was _Interceptor_!

"Boy," Clyde whispered. The dog turned to him with wide eyes and pricked ears. Confusion about his surroundings forgotten, the great canine let out a thunderous joyful bark before springing across the small space that separated him from Clyde, slamming his paws into the man's chest.

"Interceptor!" Clyde almost cried, "Interceptor! Oh, boy, good dog, good dog!" Boss and dog tumbled to the ground rolling and wrestling about in the pine needles like children. Never had these two done such a thing before, but then again, they had never been reunited after death before either.

A soft moan from somewhere nearby snapped the two from their play. The dog stole one last lick at his boss's face before sprinting away towards the sound.

_WOOF, WOOF _the dog boomed. His joyful exclamation was followed by a sharp intake of breath and a happy yell.

"OH MY GODS, INTERCEPTOR!"

That voice was enough to send Clyde lurching to his feet, cramps all but forgotten, and staggering towards the stand of trees Interceptor had bounded into. When he reached both the owner of the voice and his ecstatic canine Clyde's knees buckled.

It had nothing to do with pain.

Interceptor was frantically licking the face of a young woman, twenty four years old, red blond hair cropped short, and such pretty, pretty hazel eyes. His daughter. His little girl. Two years dead from some illness he couldn't remember the name of. His Relm.

For a brief second Relm managed to look past the happy mutt, and glanced at the shell-shocked man beyond.

"CLYDE!" gathering her strength she shoved Interceptor off and boosted herself off the ground, only to throw herself at the kneeling man. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her head buried in his shoulder just as she had done so many times back when he was still Shadow.

He couldn't answer. Instead he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against him, fearful that if he let go she might disappear. Interceptor joined them, licking first one face, than another of the embracing family.

After a while Relm spoke again, "What are _we_ doing here?"

By that time Clyde's throat had loosened up enough so he could speak. "I don't know," he said, "I really don't know."

Relm pushed herself away from her father and looked him in the eye. "Well we are here. We may as well make the bloody best of it!"

Clyde laughed. She had not changed, not a bit! Simple, direct, blunt at times. That was his Relm. His heart.

His heart.

Heart . . .

The dark . . . the voice . . . his heart . . .

_I ask you to lend your body and soul to my land_.

"My bloody, bleeding, shattered heart . . ."

His voice turned into a muffled mutter until Relm brought him out of his thoughts, "What the hell are you talking about? Explain!"

He did, as well as he could. The memory was getting hazy already, the words were blurring away. But the feeling they left remained. The meaning. His body and his soul were here for a purpose. Defense of people and land. Something that could only be defeated by a shadow.

"So let me get this straight," Relm said slowly, "you were killed, then after you died some voice told you that he needed a shadow, apparently you, to save his people?"

"Yes."

"And he needed you to be, whole, so he had to bring your heart with you. And since you've given your heart to me and Interceptor, the voice brought us back from the afterlife too?"

"Yes."

The young artist looked at him curiously, as did the great black dog.

"What are we supposed to do?" she asked, "Did that 'voice' tell you where this land was that you had to save?"

A brief head shake was all she needed.

"GODS! Why is it that quest givers always have to be so friggen' mysterious! Don't they realize that it would save so much time if they just TOLD people where to START, that way we wouldn't waste our time wandering about while people are bloody DYING and enemies are getting CLOSER as we speak!" Relm ranted.

As she raged, a wind flew through the trees. Closing his eyes, Clyde allowed it to caress his cheeks and sweep back his ragged brown locks. As any hunter knew, the wind could carry so many things. Warnings, messages. . . anything at all. To one who knew to listen, the wind whispered. To those who knew how to speak, the wind carried their messages. Clyde could do neither, those were the tricks of mystics, but that did not stop him from feeling. Feeling . . .

"North," Clyde barked suddenly, interrupting her verbal rampage, "We have to go North."

Always the contrary, Relm started to ask why the heck should they go North when they had three other perfectly good cardinal directions and innumerable other ways to head.

"Because," Clyde whispered, "That is where we have to go."


	4. Strange Creatures

_He had little reason to expect the people of this world would be any different from those in the one he had left. He was not disappointed. The creatures on the other hand . . ._

_&*&*&_

As far as towns go, this place was bigger than Thamasa, smaller than South Figaro, and ultimately more crowded than both. The odd trio of man, young woman, and dog who wove their way through the crowds on the muddied streets did little to draw attention to themselves, other than the dog's occasional snarl at those too daring or stupid to respect the blades crossing the man's back. It was for this reason that the three had not been assaulted by the usual crew of thieves and brigands that roamed the streets preying on travelers like themselves.

The sight of a trio so curious was not lost on the locals. It would be weeks before taverns stopped their gossip of the man with blades such as none of them had ever seen, or his bright clothed companion, the woman wearing breeches and a strange hat covering her cropped red blonde cap of hair. And it would be months before anyone could forget the sight of the big black and brown dog; none of them had seen an animal of his like before and few were destined to see one such as him again.

But it would be _years_ before an unfortunate horse merchant stopped telling tales of what the trio had done that day.

To Clyde's dismay, Relm had darted away _again_ to go check out some interesting thing or another. With a quick hand motion, he sent Interceptor to trail her, as the dog could make his way through the crowds with ease. Clyde almost found himself longing for the days where he could simply enter a crowed square on market day and have a path literally open before him in the sea of milling bodies. But only almost.

When he finally caught up with her, she was leaning over the wooden fence of a corral, totally absorbed with what was going on inside.

"Look at that," she whispered reverently, motioning with her hand to the three horses and the slew of men occupying the arena. Clyde's lips quirked up in the semblance of a smile: despite the popular idea the women her age had an obsession with strong, swarthy men such as those in the arena, he knew without a doubt that Relm's awe was reserved for the three horses.

Not that they did not deserve it. Though he had never encountered horses before coming to this strange place, Clyde was not blind and his experience with dogs helped him tell a good animal from a bad one. The three animals in the arena, two blacks and a grey were tall, clean of limb, muscular, and undeniably handsome. One, a black, was under saddle and one of the men was attempting to ride him around. _Attempting_ because no matter what he did, the black continually shook his head and pranced about, sidestepping, backwards, in circles, anything but obey his rider. The second black, an immense creature, was tied to a fence rail and doing his best to keep an eye on the three men looking him over, despite the tragically short leash his head was allowed. The final animal, the grey, stood with his head low to the ground, as far away from the men as he could get. His haunches were backed into a corner and he faced the closest group, a pair of fellows looking him over and pointing out various points of confirmation from a distance.

"Gods do I wish I could draw those three," Relm sighed. From the first horse she had seen, a dirty chestnut pulling a rubbish cart, Relm declared that if she ever found a creature more worthy to sketch she would burn her beret. Since then her ever present sketchbook was becoming increasingly full of drawings of the creatures. But she had never seen a set of equines that begged to be drawn like those three did!

She **had** to put at least one of their images to paper! It was her duty as an artist! Before her father could say anything to the contrary, Relm slipped through the rails and made her way over to the three men inspecting the big black.

"Excuse me sirs," she said sweetly, taking out her sketchbook and blunt drawing pencil as she did, "But would you mind stepping aside so that I can capture a likeness of this magnificent stallion to add to my collection of equine portrayals?"

To her delight, the men did just as she asked, though it was most likely because they were too stunned by her sudden appearance, gall, and high blown language to do otherwise. And who ever said that being a well educated woman was a bad thing? It took her only a few minutes to get down a rough sketch of the handsome creature; she could fill in the details later.

Taking a quick glance over her shoulder, she threw her scowling father a shining grin. _See, no harm done_, she thought, _I'm not ten anymore, I can take care of myself!_ Snapping her sketchbook shut and shoving the pencil behind her ear, Relm stepped forward and lay a hand on the black's shoulder.

"Thank you very much big fellow," she told him. The horse, who had been curiously watching her since she entered the corral, turned his head and studied her with a single appraising eye. The _look_ in that eye! Relm was transfixed by the deep dark orb radiating an aura of kindness and calm. It was like nothing she had ever seen on an animal.

"Hey fellow," she said gently. The horse gave a deep nicker in response. "Can you hold your head there just a minute longer?" The animal flicked an ear, in amusement perhaps, but amazingly kept his head in the same position as Relm once again took out her sketchbook and pencil to begin another drawing, this time a close up of the stallion's great dark eye.

Clyde could have killed her. He could have leapt that fence and killed her right then and there. Women of this world did NOT do what Relm was doing! Grinding his teeth, he slipped through the rails, Interceptor close behind. Shoving past the now nervous men, whispering things like 'witchcraft' and 'magic' he made his way to the entranced young woman standing _way_ too close to the big stallion.

"Relm," he growled and put a threatening hand on her shoulder. When Relm jumped in surprise, almost dropping the sketchbook and pencil, the big horse snorted and stomped a dinner plate sized hoof. Ever cautious, Clyde pulled Relm away from the beast, despite her irritated protests.

The stallion continued to fuss, his stamping turning to pawing and his snorts to low whickers. As they watched, the animal's head flew up as far as the tether would allow and he cast an apprehensive rolling eye over the other world trio. It was almost as if, Clyde pondered, the horse was trying to warn them of something.

&*&*&

They had been trying to break the prideful black for weeks now. And it never got any better than this. After a fight, the animal would submit to saddle, bridle, and rider, but never, never would he listen to the rider's commands. If the rider said halt, the stallion surged forward, if the rider tapped the horse's black sides the creature would hold itself at a dead stop. No amount of spurs, harsh bits, or beatings could break the damn beast's spirit.

At this rate, they'd never be able to sell him!

Today they got him moving at least. Even working with the bit a little, rather than against it. Sure, the creature was as tight as a bowstring, but so long as a person with more gold than horse sense saw him move there was a chance that they could finally get rid of the blasted beast.

This was the last thought that went through the horse merchant's head before the prideful black let out a hoarse scream and began to buck. Hard, twisting, jarring bucks that carried him around the corral as the black careened towards groups of prospective buyers and the merchant's partners. It was only scant moments before the merchant was unseated and unceremoniously fell flat on his back in the dirt of the arena. And just as unceremoniously, the prideful black spun and ever so deliberately drove both forehooves through the merchant's chest.

&*&*&

When the other black started bucking, all hell broke loose in the arena. Men scattered, some leaping the rails to escape, others were rushing to restrain the lunatic stallion. In the chaos, Relm and Clyde were knocked apart, Relm being swept up with the group heading for the bucking beast while Clyde was sent sprawling in the direction of the silent grey. Interceptor was torn, he could not protect the two of them at once and the dog's instinct told him that **both** were in _danger_.

Relm was with people, Interceptor deduced, the boss is alone. Deciding that this meant Clyde was in the greatest danger, the big black dog bolted for his master's side.

The saddled black spun and kicked, screaming a warning to any who came near. It mattered not who or why, all who ventured within his strike range had a blood covered hoof thrown their way, more often than not connecting with a sickening crunch of bone and flesh. More people had begun to gather outside the paddock, some soldiers were even running to the scene. One of those soldiers sent a crossbow bolt at the black, missing the creature's shoulder by inches. The hiss of the missile was enough to send him into another violent bucking fit, this one headed on a crash course with a young woman who had the misfortune to be pushed into the stallion's path.

_I'm dead, _Relm thought as the creature hurtled towards her, _I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm-_ There was a sound of falling wood and screams from behind, then something big and solid slammed into her, knocking her face first to the ground. When she rolled to her back, Relm found she was looking directly at the wide black underbelly of the big stallion. He stood protectively over her, his great bulk providing a shield from the actions of the men and horses.

Unnoticed by all but a former assassin and his guard dog, the grey stalked forward, coming in behind the majority of the men focused on the whirling black. Without warning, the stallion struck, lashing out with both front hooves to catch a merchant in the back. The man was dead before he could scream. Even as his forehooves landed, the grey's head was snaking out to grab another man by the back of the neck, powerful teeth crushing the man's spine. It took another two men, each killed by calculated, swift strokes, before the merchants and their impromptu helpers realized the danger from behind.

It was like nothing Clyde had ever seen. That animal was not acting in defense. It was not fighting in anger. It was _killing_. And the style of the kills, it was just . . . wrong. The black was striking out and fighting like a flight animal should. But the grey . . . the grey was fighting like a hunter! No, what the grey was doing could not even be called fighting. Only killing.

Killing. Like an assassin.

&*&*&

The big black standing over Relm lashed out twice, once with a massive front hoof, once in a dual hind leg kick. The front hoof slash was directed towards the bucking black, and along with a warning squeal it caused the raging animal to change course. The hind leg kick connected with a soldier, sending him flying across the corral and over the fallen fence. He did not rise. The big black's tether gave testament to what had happened to the fence. Relm figured he must have backed up, and when the tether didn't snap, continued to pull until the entire fence collapsed under the pressure. The top log of the fence still attached to the dangling tether convinced Relm of the validity of this theory.

When the last man was kicked down, the saddled black reared and let out a victorious scream. Relm's black flung his head up (with the log still attached to his headstall) and bellowed in return. The grey stood in silence, tail raised, head held high surveying the destruction he had caused. All three were oblivious to the crossbow bolt a soldier outside the paddock aimed at the grey.

The heavy muscles of the grey's chest in his sights, the crossbowman tightened his grip on the trigger. And abruptly dropped his weapon with a scream as a short bladed throwing knife buried itself in his right shoulder.

"You," Clyde motioned to a remaining horse merchant with another knife, twin to the one in the soldier's shoulder, "how much for the three?"

The horse dealer couldn't believe his ears. "Wh-what?" he squawked.

Clyde snorted and swung his empty hand to indicate the animals in the corral. "The two blacks and the grey, how much?"

The dealer's mouth opened and shut, but no word's came out.

"I need horses, you have horses. How much for the horses?" Clyde growled. This man with his weak chin and watery eyes was truly starting to annoy him.

"They're killers!" the man finally squeaked out, "They have to be destroyed! You were in there, you saw them!"

Tired of getting nowhere, Clyde unfastened a pouch from his belt and threw it at the man. It contained gil, most certainly not the currency of this world, but it was small, round, and a shiny gold color. Clyde was certain that those facts alone made it worth something.

"For the three, plus tack. One pack saddle, two riding. My final offer."

The man cautiously opened the pouch and beheld the small mountain of unfamiliar coins. They were small, round, and looked to be gold. That was good enough for him.

"Done," he called out to the lunatic in the corral, "But you're catching them!"

Clyde nodded, that sounded like a fair deal to him. "Relm," he growled just loud enough for her to hear, "Cut the big black loose and walk him over to the other one. If either one starts to act up, get away."

Relm replied by slowly scooting out from under the big black's belly and using her belt knife to cut his tether, just above the dangling log. As the log thudded to the ground, she grabbed the free end of the tether and began to walk the massive creature towards the saddled black. But she did not need to go far. As soon as the saddled black saw that her attention was on him, he flung up his head and pranced over, offering his broken reins like a kind of gift. She took them with a giggle at the animal's showiness, then lead to two horses to the fence break, far away from her father and the grey.

With his daughter well out of the way, Clyde motioned to Interceptor. The dog, always obedient, began to stalk to the right of the grey stallion. To the former assassin's dismay, the horse did not focus his attention on the approaching canine as he had hoped; but instead kept a steady tawny eye on Clyde's every move. Like a wraith, Clyde approached the animal, slipping a thin, strong cord from his belt and forming it into a loop.

Without warning, the grey lunged, forcing Clyde to sidestep or be impaled by a blood covered hoof. Pivoting on one leg, the grey followed Clyde's every move, swinging his muzzle, teeth bared towards the man's head. If he did not have the reflexes born from thousands of hours training and fighting, Clyde would not have been able to avoid that strike. But as it was, he managed to duck down and roll to the side, springing up by the horse's off shoulder. Interceptor, who had been lying in wait, jumped at Clyde's command, nipping the grey's haunches. The animal spun towards the source of his pain, not realizing that the real threat was much closer. As the grey turned to strike at Interceptor, Clyde cut him off mid spin by quickly looping the thin cord over his muzzle and pulling it tight.

The grey was stunned. He had been outmaneuvered . . . outsmarted . . . _caught_! Angling his head towards the two blacks, he let out a rough whicker, the first sound anyone could remember him making. Both blacks answered with low rumbles, the saddled black giving a pointed look at the remaining horse merchant and the wounded crossbowman, the big one leaning down to nuzzle the back of Relm's head.

After one more searching look at the man who had outdone him, the grey allowed himself to be led quietly to the others by the cord looped around his muzzle.

"The tack," Clyde growled to the horse merchant. But the man was too utterly dumbfounded to do anything more than stare and gibber something about demon horses and demon dogs and demons in human guises.

Snarling in disgust, Clyde told Relm to tie the blacks, then un-tack the saddled one. When she was halfway through, the horse merchant recovered his senses and raced off to retrieve the asked for equipment. Relm removed the light saddle and handed it to her father, who hoisted the leather piece onto the grey's powerful back and tightened the girth. Thankfully the tack was similar enough in design to what was used on chocobos that they could at least figure out how to get it on and off the big animals.

"Thank you," Relm whispered to him. It would have broken her heart to see three noble spirits such as these be destroyed. "But I'm curious," she continued, "What are we going to do with _three_?"

Clyde smirked, "I'll take the grey, you'll ride the big black. And him," he pointed to the prideful stallion, "he'll be the pack animal."

At this, the prideful black's head shot up and he gave an indignant squeal. But the big black flicked his ears and thumped his powerful shoulder smartly into the other horse's side, reducing the prideful animal to pawing at the ground in annoyance.

&*&*&

Less than an hour later, the town guards watched as the man with the queer blades exited the town atop a grey killer, followed by his strange woman companion riding a massive black leading a lightly laden, greatly irritated pack horse. The black and brown dog lead the way as the party of six left the road and headed into the woods; a straight shot to the North.

To Hadrian's Wall.


	5. Three Names

_Killing monsters. He enjoyed at that. Killing men. A long time ago he had enjoyed that too. Killing monsters that paraded about in men's guises? Now that, that was a treat he relished more than any other. _

&*&*&

The thing Clyde hated most about the horses was that riding them required not only carrying triple the equipment and provisions Relm, Interceptor, and himself would have needed had they been traveling alone, but also the animal's size prevented them from traveling through the safety of deep woods. In fact, other than speed, Clyde could not think of a single advantage that these creatures offered him and Relm on their journey. Interceptor could hunt, fight, keep watch, sense danger, and travel places that Clyde could not, among other things. In truth, the only things he couldn't do were light a fire and tie a knot! _He_ was a useful traveling companion.

The horses on the other hand, attracted unwanted attention, ate, got stones in their hooves, and were an all around pain in the ass. Especially the proud black and the damn grey. Every few days the black would throw a bloody fit when Clyde tried to tack him up. Sometimes it got so bad that he would need Relm to maneuver the bigger black so that his bulk pinned the smaller animal against a tree in order for Clyde to even get close. And the grey . . . gods that grey. There was no doubt that the animal was a killer of the most dangerous kind. Clyde allowed no one, not even Relm, especially not Relm, within a horse length of the grey for fear that he would attack. There wasn't a lot that could scare the former assassin, he had been through and seen too much. But, he could honestly say that looking into the grey's eyes sent a shiver run down his spine. It was like looking into a mirror, back to a time when he called himself Shadow.

Unfortunately for him, Clyde made the mistake of mentioning his irritation at the animals' uselessness to Relm one night.

"You have GOT to be kidding me," she protested, rising from her spot next to the fire and moving to stroke the noses of the two blacks, "these boys have been a GODSEND!"

"How so?" Clyde countered, resting his right hand on Interceptor's shoulder, "I don't see them hunting for us or keeping watch at night."

Relm snorted and reached her hand up to toy with the proud black's long forelock, much to the animal's delight. "Just because you don't see them keeping watch doesn't mean they don't. I swear, every time I've woken up for one reason or another, one of these boys is awake and alert. It's like they're on a scheduled watch or something. And you don't see Interceptor carrying us AND all of our provisions, do you? No offence boy."

The dog yawned, whether to show his indifference to the comment or his boredom at the entire situation was anyone's guess. Deciding that this argument had gone on for long enough and that neither of them would concede defeat, Clyde changed the subject rather than dispute any longer.

"So, have you thought of names for them yet?"

A few days before Relm had expressed a desire to name the trio of stallions, saying that no creature should die without being called _something_.

"I'm not quite sure," she admitted, "I've thought up some titles that will suffice for now, kind of like nicknames, but haven't found them names that seem _right_."

"Well?"

"This proud beast," Relm answered, giving the prideful black a friendly smack on the neck, "is Dragon, because his spirit is as fierce and noble as the dragons of legend." The black arched his neck and struck a gallant pose, causing Relm to giggle at his actions and Clyde to roll his eyes.

"You like that name, don't you boy?" Relm chuckled. Giving Dragon's pole one more scratch, she moved on and placed her hand on the big black's cheek. "I had a hard time thinking of what to call him, so I figured I'd just keep calling him what we already do. Right Big Fellow?" The big black had become accustomed to his little rider's simple, if ignoble, moniker and whuffed a warm breath over her face to show his approval.

"And what of the grey?" Clyde asked curiously. Even he was becoming tired of distinguishing the animals by their coat colors.

Relm tore her gaze away from the handsome blacks to run her eyes over the tall form of the silent grey partially obscured by the heavy mist that lay over the camp. He had been a tough one, since her father didn't even let her get close, she had very little to go on when thinking of a name.

"Ghost," she said finally. The grey, normally indifferent to the going ons of the camp, raised his head and focused an expressionless tawny eye on the young woman. "He reminds me of the ghosts back in our world, being able to fade in and out of the mist like he does."

"Hmm," Clyde muttered, leaning back and allowing himself to relax in the heat of the flames, "I thought you'd pick something more . . . violent."

Relm shook her head, "No, Ghost fits him. It was one of two names I thought of that just seemed right."

"The other?"

There was a long stretch of silence before Relm finally spoke. "It was Shadow," she whispered, half hoping that her father wouldn't hear, "But I didn't think you'd like that . . ."

The former assassin was deathly quiet. "You're right," he answered finally, "I wouldn't."

&*&*&

Later that night, Relm rolled away from the smoldering remains of the fire and got to her feet. Quietly, she slunk past the slouched form of her father, hoping that he really was asleep, not just pretending like he did so often. She made it by him and the softly snoring Interceptor without incident. As far as she could tell, the only ones awake in the little camp were her and the big black.

"Hey Big Fellow," she whispered, trying not to surprise him. The horse turned his head and, seeing who it was, let out an admonishing rumble from deep in his chest.

Relm quickly glanced over her shoulder at Clyde. Other than a slight twitch of a shoulder, the former assassin displayed no reaction to the noise. The tension she had been holding between her shoulder blades relaxed immediately; he really was asleep.

Turning back to the big black, she put a hand on his muzzle and scolded him gently, "Now there Fellow, none of that! I'm twenty four; I don't need someone telling me off like that."

The horse snorted softly and shook his head. He obviously didn't believe her.

"Whatever you think Fellow, whatever you think. Who are you, my bloody father?" Relm said with a smile, "I damn well hope not, because my father would just about kill me for what I'm planning." The black quieted and met Relm's eye with one of his own dark calm orbs. The look he gave the young woman conveyed a feeling of worry.

"Fine, fine," Relm muttered. She reached up and untied the lead fastened to the black's halter. "If you think I'm in danger, you can come help me out. But only if I'm in danger! Otherwise, _don't move_." The black sighed, but allowed Relm to creep away from him without putting up a fuss.

The young woman _felt_ the black's dark eyes watching her every move as she slowly made her way to the edge of the camp furthest away from the fire; the place that the grey, Ghost, had been tied for the night. It gave her some measure of confidence, knowing that the intelligent Big Fellow would sound an alarm if she was in danger. _Although,_ her pessimistic side chirped, _even if he did, with the way Ghost kills it would be far too late for you_.

She knew that of course. But she had always had an adventurous streak, as well as a defiant one. By forbidding her to associate with the deadly grey, her father had only piqued her interest in getting to know the animal. And so, her designated quest for the night.

But she wasn't stupid. A bit foolish sometimes, but never stupid. She wouldn't be going into this quest unprepared.

"Hey Ghost," she whispered. The animal ignored her. She stepped a bit closer.

"Come on now, wake up," Relm pursed her lips and very, very softly let out a two note whistling call. The effect was electric. A jolt went through the stallion's body, his head snapping up and his eyes shooting open. He regarded Relm with those eerie expressionless eyes, every fiber of his being _focused_ on the trembling young woman before him.

"Steady, steady there," Relm said, as much to herself as to the horse, "I've got something for you boy, I think you'll like it."

Reaching into her pocket, Relm pulled out a small green apple. A few days past as they rode down a trail, Ghost had stopped. Ignoring Clyde's attempts to get him going again, the grey stallion raised himself up on his hind legs and _hopped_. He did this several times before coming back down on all fours with a frustrated look; the only expression Relm had ever seen those tawny eyes convey. Clyde had thought the incident over, but without warning Ghost bunched his legs under him and sprang straight up. When he landed, an apple, snagged from the branch above, was clutched between his strong teeth. Triumphantly crunching his prize, Ghost then started off down the trail as if nothing had happened.

So, Relm had a sneaking suspicion that the violent stallion had a fondness for a certain sweet fruit. Hence, she had grabbed a few apples from a tree she and the two blacks had passed while her father and Scout were riding ahead. She had _intended_ to give the fruits to her father, for him to give to the grey, but since she had _forgotten_ . . . Well, she couldn't let good food go to waste now, could she?

Holding out the apple in a hand that was NOT shaking, she took another step closer. "For you boy," she said with a nervous grin. The grey, his body still taunt with tension, did not move. But neither did he remove his focus from the foolish (in his mind) young woman.

They stayed like this for some time, Relm reluctant to go any closer to the animal that DID NOT scare her in the least, and Ghost standing as if he were a made of marble. But it could not last for long. Relm's infamous lack of patience made sure of that.

"Oh for gods sakes," she finally growled, "just take the bloody apple."

Ghost's ears flicked. Once. But he did not make any move towards the frustrated artist.

Sighing dramatically, Relm turned to contemplate her big black protector. "Is he always this infuriating?" she queried. As expected, no answer was forthcoming.

Thinking she would have to be content with rolling the apple across the ground, Relm spun around.

Coming face to forelock with the grey stallion.

_HOLY SHIT_, she screamed to herself, _HOW THE FUCKING HELL DID HE GET OVER HERE WITHOUT ME NOTICING?!?!?! _

But what she said was, "eep . . ."

The grey let out a rumbling, _Hrrr_ at the woman's reaction. Dipping his head, he snatched the apple from Relm's grasp, twisting it out of her grip without much trouble. His goal achieved, Ghost turned around and silently stalked back to the tree he had been tethered to. While Relm watched, he calmly ate the apple, then promptly cocked a hind leg and fell asleep.

Apparently the stallion knew how to untie knots.

This continued every couple of nights for the next week, whenever Relm found herself awake in the night, she would take an apple out of her stash and offer it to the silent grey. The same thing happened each time; she'd offer him the apple, he would watch her but refuse to take it, she would get frustrated and turn away, whereupon Ghost would sneak up behind her in order to scare the bloody daylights out of her when she turned around. Only then would he take the offered treat. It became almost like a game, albeit, a game that Relm continued to lose.

Of course, once Relm went through her cache of apples Ghost refused to pay any attention whatsoever to the young artist. She was quite disappointed by this; she had hoped that the treats would allow her to become friends with the silent stallion. But unlike the two blacks, who greatly enjoyed Relm's company (most of the time anyway) Ghost had no use for the young woman . . . unless she was holding an apple. It was rather irritating, Relm concluded, to be used like that.

But, even so . . . she knew that as soon as she got her hands on more apples she would be right back where she started, offering the treats to the silent stallion during the night on the _slim_ chance that he might actually come to enjoy her company. Relm was fascinated, and terrified, by the silent grey. Very much like she had been of her own father the first time she really met him as an assassin. Sure, she hid her fear under cocky comments and brash actions, but it was still there.

The only time she could honestly say that she was not afraid of the grey was when her father was riding him. The two had formed a grudging respect for each other, and as such horse and rider now agreed to the terms of an unsaid deal. Under saddle, Ghost would follow Clyde's direction, so long as the former assassin took care to notice when his horse wished to go on ahead or leave the road altogether for brief periods of time. The agreement worked out well, Ghost had a knack for knowing when there would be trouble ahead and would lead the group down practically invisible game trails through the woods whenever he felt there would be some disturbance on the main path.

As much as he tried not to, Clyde found himself trusting the silent grey more and more. He knew from experience that trusting _anything_ that took pleasure in the kill to the extent the grey did was more than just a bad idea. It was a grand way to get a dagger in your back. Or in this case, a hoof in the chest. Either way, you ended up irreversibly dead.

&*&*&

Ghost pricked his ears and gave a sharp tug at the bit. That was his sign that there was something ahead and he wanted off the road _now_.

"Come on, Relm. Interceptor," Clyde growled. He gave the grey his head and allowed him to enter the thick woods. They progressed only a few strides in before Clyde realized that they were not being followed.

"Relm!" he snapped, spinning the grey to face the road. The big black stood at attention, totally oblivious to the tugging reins and futile kicks of his rider.

Relm looked up at her frustrated father. "He won't go," she argued, "He's got the bit in his teeth and doesn't want to turn!"

"I don't care what the bloody horse wants, turn him off the road!"

Relm shot her father an exasperated look, "FINE! You try to get an animal that outweighs you by a good THOUSAND POUNDS and could probably KNOCK DOWN A BLOODY TREE IF HE WANTED TO, to do what he doesn't want to do!" To Clyde's dismay, she dismounted and gathered up the two black's reins in her left hand. "**I** on the other hand will be actually progressing on this journey, because the other option is to STAY in one place until either I or the horse KEEL OVER from EXHAUSTION!" She started off down the road in a huff, the two blacks trailing behind. Big Fellow, normally the gentleman, was tugging at the bit and trying to walk ahead of Relm, despite her warning yanks on the reins. On the contrary, Dragon angrily lashed his tail and kept his ears pinned flat against his skull, jerking his head towards the woods every few steps. So Clyde wasn't the only one who wished the big black had followed him off the trail . . .

"Interceptor, go with Relm," Clyde grumbled to his perplexed partner. The dog let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sigh before trotting off down the road.

_Hrrrr_, Ghost rumbled.

"You shut up," Clyde snarled. He was in no mood to be mocked for his lack of parental control. With a jerk that was a little harder than necessary, Clyde pulled Ghost's head around and sent him down a track parallel with the road. They stayed close, making sure to always keep Relm and the two blacks in sight, but kept far enough back so they would not be noticed.

_Only here,_ Clyde thought, glancing at the country's seemingly ever present mist swirling thought the trees and around Ghost's legs, _would a grey horse stand out less than a black._

It could not have been more than an eighth of a mile before Relm, Interceptor, and the blacks encountered the disturbance Ghost had detected. A shoddy cart, pulled by an old swaybacked mare was stopped on the side of the road. A man in leather armor held the horse's head, while two similarly attired persons rooted through the cart's contents. To the side, a tall raven haired _very _pregnant woman was being held back as yet another couple of leather armored brigands smacked around a young boy, armed with a stick, with the flats of their swords.

"Come on boy," one of the men jeered, "Ya can do better than that!" The boy ran at him, stick raised, only to have the man's sword smack him across the face and send him tumbling to the ground. The men crowed with laughter, partly at the young boy whimpering and clutching his bleeding nose, partly at the woman screaming for them to leave her son alone.

"Hey!" Relm shouted to draw the attention of the men. But they were still too far away to hear her. One of the men said something that Relm didn't catch, but the mother obviously did. She started to scream and struggle anew as the men advanced on her boy, one of them grabbing an arm and wrenching him off the ground, as another drew a thick dagger.

"He-" Relm's yell was cut off by a furious bellow.

All the young artist registered was a burning feeling as the reins were torn out of her grasp and the towering shape of the big black as he galloped past.

"Holy Ifrit's Hellfire," Relm screeched, acting without thinking and swinging herself up onto Dragon's back, straddling the bulky packsaddle. The proud animal took off at a run, tearing after his larger companion.

Upon reaching the men, the big black struck out with a powerful foreleg, smashing the man with the knife's skull as easily as a hammer would smash an egg. The man who had formerly restrained the boy released his hold and was backed away as fast as his legs could carry him. The big black sent a powerful kick in his direction, missing by inches, before moving to stand over the terrified child. Teeth barred and ears pinned, the black's manner alone was almost enough to kill.

Dragon skidded to a stop beside the larger horse. Interceptor followed as well, though he was moving so quickly that when he tried to stop he slid between the big black's legs, colliding with the shivering boy. The child latched onto the dog's fur, but Interceptor freed himself with a twist and a snarl, darting out to stand stiff legged beside Relm's mount. Scared, alone, and utterly beside himself, the child did what came naturally to him and grabbed onto the nearest source of warmth: in this case, the big black's gore covered foreleg.

"Have we a problem?" Relm growled down at the men from her perch.

The man still restraining the pregnant woman, though the shock of the black's sudden appearance had successfully halted her struggling, spoke up, "Nay, we 'ad no problem till yer beast put a 'ole in our mate's 'ead!"

"Aye," another put in, "we was jest collectin' our fees fer safe passage frem this wench o'er thar."

"Oh, I see," Relm said dangerously, "so collecting fees involves beating a poor boy in front of his mother."

"We was jest teachin' 'im an' 'er not ta speak poorly of their betters."

"And how would you know how they speak to their betters? I don't see anyone of such status here?"

It took a few moments for the insult to set in, but once it did each man's eyes took on a murderous glint.

"It seems like we 'ave ta teach someone else the same lesson," the man holding the carthorse's head hissed. The others made sounds of agreement and those who hadn't already drew their weapons. Relm reached for her own dagger, but was stopped by a snide comment.

"Ah, ah," said the man restraining the pregnant woman. He had drawn a knife and placed to across his captive's throat. "Ya jest do whatever mah friends tell ya or 'er blood'll be on your 'ands."

_Damn shitfaced fucking bastards_, Relm snarled to herself. But she moved her hand back to Dragon's reins. The proud black arched his neck and champed at the bit. One hoof rose and fell as the angry horse struck repeatedly at the ground in front of him. Off to the side, Interceptor's vicious snarl deepened.

"Interceptor, no. Stand. And Dragon, don't you fucking dare, just don't you fucking-" But as always, the proud black had no intention of following his rider's wishes. Grabbing the bit in his teeth he lunged forward, the sudden motion sending Relm tumbling from her precarious seat atop the pack saddle.

She hit the ground back first, the impact driving the breath from her lungs. When her head stopped spinning, she rolled over and pushed herself into a sitting position. Dragon was attacking two of the men who had been searching the cart, the third lying in a puddle of blood with his chest caved in. Interceptor, who must have abandoned the 'Stand' command as soon as Relm fell, had his jaws locked around the forearm of the man that formerly held the carthorse, which had spooked and was now galloping down the road. And the woman . . .

_Oh gods no_, Relm thought as she scrambled to her feet and faced the spot the pregnant woman once stood. Her captor was lying face down in the dirt, a very distinctive five pointed throwing star imbedded in his neck. The silent grey was standing unattended, inspecting the body, while her father held the sobbing woman upright.

But Relm's relief was short lived, as something large and heavy hit her between her shoulder blades, knocking her to the ground and knocking the wind out of her yet again. Her face digging into the dirt, Relm couldn't even scream to get her father or Interceptor's attention. She arched her back and tried to twist out from under the person, but he had straddled her hips with his own and used his greater weight to pin her firmly to the ground. She felt cool steel across the back of her neck and heard the man whisper, "Got ya now wench."


	6. New Companions

_He had always considered Interceptor to be a unique individual. The dog was more intelligent and had more personality than any other non-human he had ever encountered. But even so, he still behaved like what he was: a dog._

Suddenly, the weight over her hips was violently jerked away. Wasting no time, Relm rolled to the side, lurching to her feet as soon as she was able. She expected that Interceptor had seen her peril and tackled the man, since she had not felt the ground vibrate with hoof beats that would have signified Dragon's coming. But to her astonishment, it was not Interceptor that held the man captive: it was Ghost.

The silent grey held the writhing man's neck in his teeth, suspending him above the ground. But rather than crush the man's spine as he had done to those poor souls back in the town, Ghost started to shake his head back and forth. First slowly, then progressively faster until the man's body was literally whipping around with each violent twist of the grey's head. A sharp crack split the air, and with that Ghost let go, allowing the limp body to thud to the ground.

Relm felt another set of hands on her shoulders and spun around, right into her father's bone crushing embrace.

"Stupid girl," Clyde gasped as he held her tight, "goddamn you Relm. Goddamn you and your god awful stubbornness."

"I'm fine," she squeaked, "no harm done." She wiggled out of her father's grasp and stood by his side surveying the scene before them. With an oath of recognition, Clyde rushed over to the crumpled form of Interceptor lying by the side of the road. At his boss's touch, the dog lifted his head and looked around groggily. Nimble fingers searched the creature's skull, finding a lump, about the size of a dagger's pommel, just behind one ear. The blow must have stunned the valiant dog, keeping him out of the end of the fight.

With the threat gone, the big black had turned his attention to another pressing problem. Lowering his head, he regarded the small child latched onto his leg with a calm dark eye. Ever so gently, he bumped his nose against the boy's shoulder. A light touch on his withers caused the black to raise his head curiously. The pregnant woman, presumably the boy's mother, was standing at his side. As he watched, she crouched down and gently peeled the boy off of the thick foreleg. Taking her child up in her arms in spite of the blood staining his clothing, she stepped back and regarded the big black. Then, without a word, she came forward and circled her free arm around the black's heavily muscled neck. He seemed stunned for a moment, but then gently rested his head on her back pressing the woman and her child into him.

After a few moments of this embrace the woman pulled away and turned toward Relm.

"Thank you," the gentle green eyes in the woman's dirt and tear streaked face showing nothing but pure gratitude.

"It was nothing," Relm replied, "really, I didn't do bloody anything. Big Fellow, Dragon, Interceptor, Ghost, and my father all took care of those men. I just talked big, fell off a horse, and almost got stabbed."

"You short yourself, but I thank _all_ of you," the woman said with a smile, "I'm Elaine and this is my son, Aiden."

Relm smiled back, "I'm Relm, that's my father Sh-, Clyde."

"You have funny names," the little boy said with wide, innocent eyes.

"Aiden! That's not a very nice thing to say to these kind people!"

A rough chuckle drew the attention of the two women. "It's alright, Ma'am," Clyde laughed, "Your boy only speaks the truth. We're not from here, so our names must sound very strange to your ears." Once he was sure that Interceptor would be fine, Clyde rose to his feet and approached the mother and child. "Are you two alright?"

Elaine nodded. "Thanks to you all, yes."

"They hit me," Aiden whimpered, "I tried to protect mama and they hit me."

Relm bent over so that she was face to face with the boy. "It was very brave of you to look after your mama like that. I'm sure if you were just a little bigger you would have beaten those men black and blue!"

The boy smiled back at her as did his mother. Even Clyde couldn't stop the corners of his lips from turning up in amusement. Relm always did have a thing for children.

A sharp snort turned the human's attention to the animal members of the group.

"You!" Relm almost shouted as she stalked over to the blood splattered Dragon. He arched his neck and trotted towards the young artist proudly. But she would have none of it. Grabbing his dangling reins, she jerked his head down so she could cuff him across the muzzle.

"You stupid selfish git!"

Dragon's eyes widened and he nibbled teasingly at Relm's shirt. Only to have his ears boxed.

"If my father hadn't been here Elaine would have been killed! And for what?" she jerked the black's head down so she could look him in the eye, "So you could show off! And look what you've done to the bloody packsaddle! It's as good as ruined, our supplies are everywhere-"

While Relm berated the now shamefaced horse, Elaine leaned over and said softly to Clyde, "Is she always such a spitfire?"

The former assassin chuckled, "When she's not, you know there must be something wrong."

As they spoke, Interceptor stumbled over and leaned his shoulder against Clyde's leg. The big dog was still very disoriented from the blow he had taken and seemed to be having trouble staying upright on his own.

Elaine glanced worriedly at the dog, then back up at Clyde, "Would you like me to look him over? I have a little bit of medical knowledge . . ."

"No," Clyde replied sharply, "he bites strangers." Elaine stepped back quickly as Interceptor lifted a lip and let out a menacing growl to confirm his boss's statement. She would make sure to give that particular creature a wide berth.

"Mama," Aiden whispered loudly as he tugged on Elaine's shirt, "can I go see the big horsie? That doggie scares me." He still remembered the black and brown canine's sharp fangs almost connecting with his arm and the terrifying snarl the dog had let out when the boy had unknowingly tried to grab his fur.

"Of course dear, let's go see the big horsie." Taking a few steps back, Elaine put her boy down and followed him to where the big black stood watching Relm's scolding of Dragon with interest. She made a clicking sound with her tongue, causing the big black to look around and catch sight of her and Aiden. The horse let out a gentle whicker and lowered his head to Aiden's level, allowing the small boy to pat his cheeks. In any other case, Elaine wouldn't have allowed her boy within twelve yards of an animal that was so obviously bred and trained for war. But there was something in this one's eye, an aura of kindness that assured her that the great animal would do nothing to hurt her boy and everything in his power to protect him.

When Aiden reached up to tug one of the black's ears, Elaine intervened. "Now Aiden, you know better," she chided. She crouched down and took her boy's hand in her own, "Animals like to be stroked like this, not have their ears pulled." Keeping a loose grip on Aiden's hand, she slowly guided him into running it down the black's cheek in slow smooth motions. The big black closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, letting out a blissful sigh.

"That's a good boy," Elaine said gently, not quite sure if she was speaking to her Aiden, the stallion, or both. She let go of Aiden's hand, and when he continued to stroke the horse's cheek in the correct fashion she let him be and allowed her own hand to move across the big black's sleek hide, right where the edge of his jaw connected with his neck. To her surprise, the black let out a soft groan and leaned even harder into the pair of hands caressing his face.

"He likes you guys." Elaine glanced up to see a smiling Relm holding the reins to the _very _sheepish looking smaller black.

"I suppose he does," she beamed. The big black had yet to open his eyes and as Elaine's hand ran over that spot again he let out another groan. "Does he have a name?"

"Not a real one," Relm admitted, "we call him the Big Fellow. I haven't been able to find a name that really _fits_ him."

When Aiden heard this, he stopped his petting immediately and stared at the big black with a look of almost comical concentration. "He should be a knight," he said finally, "Like that knight in the stories you tell me mama. He was very big and very nice, right?"

"That's right, dear," Elaine replied, removing her hand from the black to ruffle her son's hair, "Sir Dagonet was very nice."

"Sir Dagonet," Relm rolled the name around on her tongue, "Sir Dagonet . . . I like it! What do you think Fellow?" The big black raised his head slowly, careful not to bump Elaine or her boy, and let out a rumbling nicker.

"I think he finds it to his liking," Clyde said with a smile. He stalked over to Ghost and gathered up the silent grey's reins before hoisting himself into the saddle. "I'll ride ahead and bring back your cart. Interceptor, stay here. Protect Relm." With that he dug his heels into the grey's sides and cantered off down the road.

As soon as he deemed they were far enough out of sight and earshot, Clyde pulled Ghost to a halt and dismounted. Walking around to the front of the silent grey, Clyde put a hand on either side of his muzzle and maneuvered the animal's face so he could look into those expressionless tawny eyes.

"You saved my daughter," he said point blank, "Why?" The horse just stared back at him unblinking. Clyde didn't know why he had even bothered to ask; it wasn't as if Ghost could talk back to him! Not even Interceptor had mastered that particular feat, although Clyde had become remarkably good at reading the big dog's eyes.

"I don't understand you," Clyde sighed, "You are a killer, as soon as I dropped the reins you could have joined that blasted black in fighting. But you didn't. You only joined when Relm was in danger. You find joy in the kill, yet you waited."

Still no reaction. Not even a muscle tremor belayed what the grey might have been thinking.

"What are you? What are _all_ of you? Where I am from there are no horses, so I know little about your kind. But from what little I have observed, you should not be like you three are. You are all too," Clyde paused for a second, "too human. Even you, the killer that you are. I have known someone like you before."

Clyde felt the smallest twitch of the skin under his hands. Encouraged by even this minuscule response, Clyde pressed on.

"Are you spirits? Espers? Vassals for magic? Did someone send you?"

Nothing. Not even a shiver.

Sighing once more, Clyde released the stallion's muzzle and moved to put a foot in a stirrup.

"In any case, I thank you," he said before swinging himself up onto the animal's back, "the man I knew wouldn't have saved her. Not if he did not know her." Surprisingly the stallion turned his head to fix the former assassin with one of those tawny eyes, that was for once expressing something as clear as day.

_Who?_

Clyde grunted and tapped the stallion's sides. When the animal did not move, nor look away, Clyde grudgingly offered him an answer.

"He was called Shadow. A man who did not even live for the sake of living, only for death," under his breath he added, so softly that the stallion only just heard, "He was me."

The sound of hoof beats on the hard packed road caused Relm to look up from her task of dragging the last of the brigands into the trees off. Clyde trotted Ghost over and dismounted beside Elaine and Aiden.

"There's a ditch up ahead," Clyde began slowly, "when your mare spooked she came too close to the roadside. The cart went in, dragged her after it. She had a broken leg."

A flash of pain flew across Elaine's face, but when she spoke her voice was calm. "Did she suffer?"

"No," Clyde said blankly, "I made sure it was quick. Painless."

Elaine nodded her thanks.

Anxious to change the topic to something of a little more positive tone, Clyde patted the sacks tied to Ghost's saddle. "I took what I could salvage from the cart. You're a seamstress?"

"Yes," she stated, reaching to untie the sacks, "I thought I could find better work in one of the fortress towns to the north, so Aiden and I were planning on moving up there."

Relm darted up and gently smacked Elaine's hand away from the bags. "You shouldn't be carrying things in your state," she admonished, "We'll ride with you." Before Elaine could protest Relm untied the bags herself and carried them over to Dragon.

"No, no!" Elaine protested, "I've already inconvenienced you too much!"

The young artist rolled her eyes and tied the sacks to what was left of the pack saddle. "We're going north anyways. Besides, what are you going to do, _walk_ the rest of the way? Really Elaine, how far along are you? Doesn't matter, it sure as heck wouldn't be good for you or the baby."

There was nothing Elaine could say to argue against this. She hung her head and wrapped her arms around her protruding belly. _None_ of her decisions in the past few months were doing her or her unborn child much good. But what could she do? There was not enough work in her home village for a woman to support herself, never mind two children, on her own. It was either sell her land and move to a large town or face starvation. The cart, the swaybacked mare, the few things she had brought with her, and her children were the only things she had left in this world. She had been planning on selling the horse and cart to make the money they would need to find a temporary home. And with them gone . . . she didn't know what to do.

Her distress did not go unnoticed for long. A gentle tug at her dress made her look down at her first born, who was staring up at her with worried eyes, the same shade of green as her own. She leaned down to pick him up, but was stopped when Clyde put a hand on her shoulder.

"You shouldn't be lifting things," he said sternly, "how far along _are_ you?"

Conceding defeat, Elaine settled for ruffling Aiden's hair whilst she gave her answer, "Seven months, almost eight." When Clyde's eyebrows rose and Relm let out a startled gasp Elaine turned to them with a vengeance.

"What would you have me do?" she snapped, "With my husband gone I had not the resources to run the farm nor the money to see us through the winter! It was leave now or condemn all three of us to death!"

Relm moved to the insulted woman and drew her into a tight hug. "I'm sorry about your husband."

Surprised but comforted by the contact, Elaine returned the embrace briefly before pulling away. "It's been six months," she said softly, "I'm healing."

"We will bring you north," Clyde stated. He, of all people, knew what it was like to lose someone that close. And he could do nothing but admire the woman's strength. She had carried on. She had survived. She was still living her life. He only wished that he had been as strong as that . . .

He was startled out of his internal contemplations by one of the strangest sights he had come across since coming to this world. The newly named Dagonet had moved to stand beside Elaine, Aiden, and Relm, then slowly folded his knees till his forequarters were on the ground. They all stared at him for a moment before Relm finally broke the silence.

"Dagonet's right, we should get moving while there's still daylight to ride by." She took Elaine's shoulder and steered her towards the kneeling stallion.

The raven haired woman protested feebly, "But he's your horse . . ."

"But he likes you better," Relm shot back, "besides . . ." a sneaky smile flitted across Relm's face and she turned to address Aiden, "Do you want to ride big ol' Dag here?"

The boy's eyes lit up and he nodded enthusiastically, rushing past Relm and him mother to clamber into the kneeling stallion's saddle. Dagonet's back was so wide that the boy's legs stuck out at almost right angles when he sat down, but the ecstatic smile on his face showed that he did not mind this in the least.

"You wouldn't deny your boy, would you?" Relm said with a positively evil smile. Elaine shook her head in disbelief at the younger woman's impudence. But she did allow Relm to help her into Dagonet's saddle behind her boy. When both passengers were seated securely, Dagonet carefully rose up to all fours. Elaine's face paled when she looked down from the great height of the stallion's back, but to her credit, she stayed calm. Aiden on the other hand was practically bouncing out of the saddle in his excitement.

"Don't let your mama fall, okay," Relm said to the boy. He nodded happily, then settled down to play with the long strands of Dagonet' mane.

"Relm," Clyde barked. He had remounted the silent grey and was looking down at her. "How are Dragon's injuries?"

"Superficial," she replied, "Elaine and I cleaned them up and stitched up the worst one while you were gone. So long as he doesn't do anything stupid the stitches should hold."

"Tie him to Ghost's saddle. You're riding with me."

Relm could hardly repress the shudder of fear and excitement at the prospect of riding the silent grey. Even if she was sitting behind her father. She snatched up Dragon's reins, and after leading him to the grey's side made quick work of fastening the knots. As always, the proud black let out a dramatic sigh and pulled back slightly against the restraint. Relm smacked him across the nose.

"Don't push me, boy. You've done enough harm today," she said with a growl.

She moved up and took her father's offered hand, ready to be swung into the saddle behind him. Instead she felt something jerking at the side of her shirt. Looking to her right, her heart almost stopped when she realized that it was _Ghost_ that had a grip on the thick plain cloth with his powerful teeth. Judging by her father's strained silence, his heart was in the same predicament. The big grey jerked the cloth again and let out a warning rumble.

Suddenly Relm realized what he was doing. "Oh, OH!" pulling her hand out of Clyde's grip she reached into the pocket that held her sketch book and drawing pencil. Her searching fingers soon came in contact with the round, smooth, treasure she had hidden there the day before and she brought it out into sight. Holding the apple out, she offered it to the silent grey.

Ghost let go of her shirt and raised his head so he could look her in the eye. Then, as if he had been doing it for years, he plucked the apple from her outstretched hand. The grey took in her uncontained glee as she watched him calmly chew and swallow the treat, never once taking his eyes off hers. When he was done, he bobbed his head. Once. Then turned away.

When Clyde finally got Relm up behind him, he whispered dangerously, "He knew you had that."

Knowing she was caught, but not wanting to admit defeat yet, Relm stuttered out, "Umm, he smelled it?"

"We'll speak of this later," Clyde growled, "Interceptor!"

The big dog, fully recovered from his earlier trauma, woofed expectantly.

"Keep by. Ma'am, are you ready?"

Elaine nodded, her arms reaching around the contented Aiden to grasp Dagonet's reins in white knuckled hands.

Without a word Clyde urged Ghost into a fast walk down the road. If they pushed it they could make a few more miles before nightfall. A few miles could make a difference.

They were getting close. He could feel it.


	7. A Brief History

_ Impossible odds were a familiar thing to him. And with a lot of skill and a little planning, he knew that what was thought to be impossible could end up to be greatest triumph ever imagined._

After a few miles of the slow pace Clyde set for the group, despite the awesome thrill of riding the _biggest, most fierce looking, _and _nicest_ horse that he had ever seen in his six years, Aiden was getting bored. He tried to imagine that he was a noble knight, riding off to save a princess from an evil Saxon warlord, but it didn't work out so well. Noble knights galloped to the scene of noble rescues, not walked.

"Mama," he asked, twisting his body around so he could look at her, "can you tell me a story?"

Elaine, still very uncomfortable at how far away the ground was, was willing to do anything to stop her son's squirming. "If it's alright with Miss Relm and Master Clyde."

"Of course it's alright with us," Relm called back to them, "but only if you ride close so we can hear it too!"

At his daughter's request Clyde slowed the grey so he was walking alongside the calm Dagonet. The normally silent grey and the big black shared a curious glance. Ghost made a noise that sounded mysteriously like a snicker, and in response Dagonet let out a snort so loud that it caused Elaine to flinch in surprise.

_I wonder what they are saying,_ Clyde thought.

"Can you tell the one about the knights and the Saxons?" Aiden pleaded.

Elaine couldn't help smiling at her son, "There are a lot of stories about the knights and the Saxons, my dear."

"The one you saw!" he clarified, "When they are on the ice!"

"Alright then," she replied, "but why don't I start a little earlier, back in the village. Miss Relm and Master Clyde might want to know _why_ the knights are on the ice."

Not having thought of that, Aiden agreed to listen to what he called "the boring part" of the story, so long as she didn't skip out on the good stuff later.

Although he tried to keep his concentration on the road ahead, Clyde found himself almost instantly drawn into the woman's tale.

"It was five years past," she began, "around this time, when the line between fall and winter starts to blur. We, your father, you, and I, lived on the estate of a Roman of great importance to his empire. You were too little to remember anything, my dear, but this Roman was a cruel man. He made us work till our hands bled and our legs gave out, then when it was time to bring in the harvest, he took most of it for himself. If we protested, he would have his soldiers beat us, saying that it was the will of his God that we serve him in such a way. That fall it was much worse than any other year. The harvest was poor to begin with, and once Marius, for that was the Roman's name, took his portion we were left with almost nothing. Many people died . . . your father and I almost lost you, my dear."

Elaine paused and cautiously let go of the reins with one had to pat her son on the shoulder. Taking a quick look at the others, she could see Relm's eyes radiating something between horror and fury, while, if his stiff posture were any inclination, her father seethed with barely concealed rage. Strangely, each one of the horses had an ear trained on her as well . . . even the seemingly selfish Dragon.

"It was right at the beginning of the first bad cold snap. A young girl who was pregnant with her first child died of starvation, so the village elder went to Marius to plead our case. He was tied up and whipped in front of the entire village as an example. We were not allowed to cut him down, on pain of death."

"We had resigned to our fates. What else could we do? The weak would die and the strong would live. Although at this point, there were no strong among us. I was certain that we would not make it through the coming winter."

"And then," Aiden chimed in, "the knights came!"

"Yes," Elaine said, "several days after the village elder's public punishment, nine riders galloped into the town. Seven of them were the famed Knights of the Wall, fearless fighters led by the great Artorius Castus . . . Arthur. They had come on a mission from a Bishop, to escort Marius and his family back below the Wall. For, not so very far to the north . . . the Saxons were coming."

"Marius did not believe them. He thought Rome would send an army to protect his family. But Rome did not care about Briton any more. They wanted their people out and away from this island, "Let the Saxons take it," they said. Rome-"

"What were the knights like mama?" Aiden interrupted.

Elaine had to laugh, "Is it always the knights with you?"

"They're my favorites," he replied innocently.

"Alright, alright. I have not seen them in five years, but I will do my best to remember. I only know a few of their names, from what I heard in conversation, but I can recall a few things about each one. There was a dark handsome one, he wore two blades crossed over his back and spoke to Arthur as if they were brothers. Another had a wild mane of golden hair and broad strong shoulders. I heard another knight call him Gawain. And there was a quiet one, he seemed much younger than the others, much less sure of himself. One they called their scout, a fierce man with a wild look about him. I remember he had a hawk. Then there was a big man, not tall, just big, who talked in this loud booming roar of a voice. He was always speaking to the other big knight, Dagonet, a tall man with a scared face and kind nature. And Arthur . . ."

"It was impossible not to see Arthur's Roman heritage. But yet, he was very different. Once done speaking to Marius he stopped and looked over the people of the town. One of the men approached him and asked to join his knights. Arthur refused of course, but what was surprising was he began to ask about the people, why we all looked so thin and weak. When he found out it was because Marius was taking so much of the harvest . . . his very look could have killed. And then, he caught sight of our village elder, still strung up where he had been whipped."

"'Who is this man,' he asked."

"When we told him, Arthur drew his sword and cut the elder's bonds."

"'You are all free men!' he told us, 'Free to chose your own fates, free to live your lives the way you wish!' He explained to us the Saxon danger that was approaching from the north, and told us to gather what we needed to make the journey south. It was much later that we all found out his mission was just to bring Marius and his family to safety, not us. He guided us because he thought it was the right thing to do."

Aiden, who had heard this part before, wanted to get back to the action, "What about the evil priests and the bad place?"

"If you keep interrupting your mama we'll never get to hear all of the story!" Relm said in mock exasperation. But when the little boy had fallen silent, she turned to Elaine and said with a smile, "So, what about those evil priests and the bad place?"

The raven haired woman shook her head and laughed. This young woman was no more than a child in an adult's body if her comments were any evidence! Still chuckling, she continued the tale.

"As we were departing, Marius ordered his soldiers to wall up then entrance to a place we all called The Pit. This was where he kept his prisoners, those who he felt were the greatest defilers of what he said was 'The Lord's Law.' Sometimes his soldiers would find a Woad and bring them there. We would not be able to sleep for weeks because of the screaming. Eventually the screams would stop and life would go on as always. But we never, never saw those that went in the Pit come out."

"Arthur saw the men walling up the entrance and demanded to be let inside. When they refused he had one of his knights, Dagonet, break down the door. The way clear, he and a few others entered. They came out with a young Woad woman and a little boy."

"They were both close to death. But instead of leaving them, as was the sensible choice, Arthur had them put in a wagon and taken along. He would not leave any of us behind."

"We walked for days, the weather getting colder with each passing hour. Snow covered everything at that point, most of us had frostbite on our toes and fingers, a few of us couldn't even walk anymore," Elaine's face fell at the memory of so many familiar faces that had not made it through that rough journey, despite Arthur's good intentions.

"You had a bad case of frostbite yourself, my dear," she said to Aiden, "You couldn't walk at all, your feet hurt so much. Your father and I would take turns carrying you, until we were too weak to even do that. One of the knights saw our trouble, the big man with the loud voice. He rode his horse over and told us not to worry, that he would help us. Then he turned and shouted to the cart where the Woad, the boy, Marius's wife, and Dagonet were riding. I still remember his words, "Hey Dagonet! I'm gonna bring you another little scrap to take care of! This one's only temporary though, so don't be getting attached!" That was how I came to know Sir Dagonet's name. I do wish I had caught the name of the loud knight, but at the time I was too distracted by other things to think of asking."

"You rode in the cart for the next two days, until your feet healed enough for you to walk a little on your own. Arthur had everyone stop for the night, so your father and I fetched you from the cart. The other riders said they did not mind if you stayed, but your father and I wanted you back with us. We were always grateful that we took you back when we did . . ."

"The next morning, Marius and his soldiers made a bid for power. They ambushed Sir Dagonet in his sleep, then when he tried to fight back Marius took the young boy from the Pit hostage and threatened to kill him. But before he could harm the boy, an arrow hissed through the air and buried itself in his chest, killing him instantly."

"Lady Guinevere!" Aiden shouted.

"Yes, her name was Guinevere, but back then she was no lady, only a Woad. With Marius dead, his soldiers had no will to fight Arthur's command and were easily subdued. The trouble past, Arthur urged us all to move once again, for his scout had brought news that the Saxons were closer than anyone had thought."

"Later that day, we came to a large frozen lake. There was no way around and the Saxons were too close for us to turn back and find another route. We had to cross. Amazingly, the ice held, even when the entire caravan stood on the lake at once. But it was slow going, too slow. As we crept across the ice, the sound of the Saxon war drums, and eventually the sounds of Saxon voices came closer and closer. Even if we made it across, the Saxons would catch up to us within the day."

"The knights must have known this better than anyone. They made the decision to stay behind on the ice to stop the Saxons and allow the caravan to escape to Hadrian's Wall. That was the last time I saw the knights and the Woad, when I looked back after crossing the ice safely. Eight warriors against an army of a few hundred men. Your father and I prayed that the knights, and even the Woad, would be rewarded in the afterlife for their selflessness."

"But they didn't die!" Aiden chirped.

"No," Elaine replied, "Long after the ice crossing, your father met a man who heard of what transpired from the knight's squire. He told the tale to him, and in turn your father told the tale to me. The knights and the Woad waited on the ice for the Saxons to arrive. When the Saxon's saw their enemies, it took all of their commander's authority to keep his men from simply charging and overwhelming the puny force. Thinking to impress Arthur and his knights, the Saxon commander had his men form into neat lines and begin their march across the ice, drums booming, men chanting. Knowing the range of their crossbows and short bows, the Saxon's thought they were safe."

"They had not reckoned with the range and power of the English longbow."

"When the Saxons were barely a fourth of the way across the ice, Arthur commanded his men to shoot. The Saxons were grouped so close together that little aiming was needed for a shooter to hit _some_ bit of flesh, so for each shot fired by the eight warriors, eight or more Saxons fell. Death rained from the sky for the Saxons, and as each of their comrades fell, men stepped in to fill their places, making the army cluster closer together with every step. That was Arthur's plan you see, to center the weight of the army onto a single point of the creaking and groaning ice so that eventually the instable platform would give way and send them into the depths. But even with the army clustering, Arthur could see something was amiss. The ice was groaning like a dying thing, yet it would not crack! And still the Saxons came, closer and closer. He gave the order for his warriors to take up their swords, to prepare for a combat that they had not a chance of surviving. He knew it. They knew it. Yet they stayed, if only make the army that would eventually catch up to us just a little bit smaller, to give a few more of us the slight possibility of escape."

"For one knight this was not good enough. Sir Dagonet knew that the only chance of the caravan making it to Hadrian's Wall un-assaulted depended on the Saxon army falling through the ice that was too strong. So, disregarding his personal safety he snatched up his axe and ran out onto the lake, halting at a point midway between the knights and the Saxons. Ignoring the crossbow bolts that shot by him, he began to hack at the ice. Several bolts struck him, but he continued with his task until, with one final swing, a massive crack appeared. Seeing the danger the Saxon commander ordered his men back, but for many of them it was too late. The icy waters of the lake turned to chaos as men fought to escape the depths, but to little avail. The army was decimated, and those that remained could no longer follow the caravan. Arthur and his knights had saved us all."

That story finished, Aiden and Relm immediately bombarded her with questions.

"Tell the one where the knights saved the Bishop!"

"Why didn't Arthur just move the line of knights back on the lake?"

"Or the battle on Badon Hill?"

"Do you know any stories about the knight with the hawk?"

"Or the one where-"

Clyde felt that his intervention was called for. "Now you two," he said sternly, "one story is enough for now."

The little boy crossed his arms and pouted, but did not argue. Relm on the other hand-

"Why? Didn't you think Elaine was a good storyteller? You were very good by the way, no matter what my father thinks."

Elaine blushed and nodded her thanks. She was not used to anyone complimenting her storytelling abilities, as until now only Aiden and her late husband had been the only ones to know of them.

"I also thought you were quite good," Clyde growled, "I just thought that you might like a break. Telling stories takes a lot more out of people than listening to them." He aimed that last comment at Relm, who mumbled an apology to Elaine for acting so childish.

After they stopped for the night Clyde waited till the young woman put Aiden to bed before approaching her. She was rubbing Dagonet's thick neck and speaking to him softly. The horse had an ear trained on her, as if he was trying desperately not to miss a word she said. It was strange the way that creature had taken on the role as protector of the woman and her son. Strangely similar to the way Interceptor had latched onto him.

Dagonet's snort alerted Elaine to the man's presence. She turned around to look into his questioning blue eyes, waiting for him to ask what she knew he had been thinking since she had finished her story.

"What happened to the knight on the ice?"

Elaine stared at him sadly, "He fell through. The others pulled him out, but it was too late. One of the crossbow bolts struck something vital; he should have been dead before he struck that final blow."

"I had a feeling," Clyde muttered, "You don't tell Aiden those parts, do you?"

Elaine shook her head, "He's not stupid, he knows that some of them did not make it. But I still do not tell him, he loves the knights so much I can't bear to actually say it."

She turned back and started to run her fingers through the big black's mane. "You probably think I'm sheltering him, making him weak."

"No," Clyde said softly, "He seems like a fine boy, so you must be doing a fine job of raising him."

Dagonet turned his head and whickered, lowering his muzzle so it just touched her bulging stomach.

The former assassin couldn't stop his lips from curling into a smile. "It seems I am not the only one to share this view."

From the other side of the camp Relm happened to look up to see the big black with his nose resting on Elaine's stomach. _My gods,_ she thought, _what a picture!_ In a moment she had out her sketch book and was furiously running the pencil over it. Damn it what she wouldn't give for some color! The outlines of the black's head and Elaine's torso took shape on the paper, they were the main subjects of the drawing, perhaps she would add a bit of background later if she felt like it. She worked quickly, wanting to get as much of the image down before her unknowing subjects changed positions and the moment was lost.

She couldn't help letting out a quiet curse when Dagonet's head suddenly jolted up as if he had been stung. Elaine laughed and Relm just caught her father's muffled question.

"The baby," Elaine chuckled in reply, "the little one kicked the poor fellow right in the nose."

It could have been the light, but Relm swore that she saw the big black's eyes go wide with curiosity and surprise. In any case, he lowered his head again, returning to the same position as before. A sudden spark of inspiration flared in Relm's head and she quickly returned to her drawing, sketching a tiny hand in Elaine's belly reaching up to press against the black's powerful muzzle.

Warm breath on the back of her neck made her aware that someone was watching her work. She spun around, smacked the offending spy, a rather surprised Dragon, and hissed, "No one watches me draw! Not even you."

He looked ashamed and nuzzled her shoulder in way of an apology.

"It's alright boy, you didn't know," she reassured him, "Just don't do it again."

While Dragon bobbed his head enthusiastically, Ghost, who was tied a little further away, let out one of his deep _hrrrrr_ing laughs.

"Does he know something I don't?" she asked Dragon accusingly. The black's eyes widened and he frantically shook his head. _What the hell?_

Head shaking, head nodding, laughing, Dagonet's general behavior towards anything small and defenseless, Dragon's ridiculous amount of pride, Ghost's attitude towards _everything_ . . . these were not animal behaviors. _They were bloody human_.

"What are you three?" she whispered. The stallions offered her no answer.

"I'm serious you two, _what are you?_"

"It's no use Relm." The young artist yelped at the unexpected voice. Spinning around she shot her father a nasty glare for sneaking up on her like that. He shrugged it off and continued with what he was going to say, "I already asked."

Clyde allowed his eyes to run over the strange creatures, animals who were not quite animals. He allowed his gaze to linger for a time over the grey's expressionless tawny orbs, eyes so much like his own from long ago that it was chilling.

Whenever he looked at those eyes, he was not entirely sure if he wanted to know what or who the grey really was.


End file.
